A Comedy of Errors
by Beautybedamned
Summary: Mercy di Salmileri finds herself possibly stuck - permenently in the 1800s; but fate, it seems, has other plans. After all, while one might aspire to consider all variables, there will always be one - or two, or three - left unaccounted for.


**Some words: **I meant to dabble into fic a long, long time ago. But between work, grad school and the crazy that is life, the idea sort of washed away somewhere there. In the wake of my latest addiction to Naomi Novik's _Temeraire _series however, I dove right back into M&C and what books of Patrick O'Brien I have had in my possession. It's safe enough to say then that unhealthy addiction to the world of Aubrey, Maturin & company has come back in full swing (Haul me off to rehab? No, no thank you).

This is mostly for Kam, better known as _Sleepwalking Dreamer_. Why? Because she spent several so-and-so nights making me laugh over the phone with the antics of Mercy and everyone else (un)fortunate to cross the said girl's path. And moreover, because while _More Things Than Heaven and Earth _may have stalled somewhere along the way writing-wise, the characters didn't. Not in our heads at least. Most definitely not in mine.

**Disclaimer:** Mercy di Salmileri belongs to Sleepwalking Dreamer, borrowed with permission. The Aubrey-Maturin series are credited to Patrick O'Brien. I own nothing, I just play (and thus, go overboard; be kind please, this is a first attempt). Expect mayhem of the crazy sort.

* * *

**A Comedy of Errors**

A string of events set briefly after _More Things on Heaven and Earth_…

* * *

The laughter died down quite naturally, though the silence that followed left much to be desired.

"Well," She sighed as she allowed her gaze to roam to the faces of those gathered around the table. "I always did have a fascination for this particular period in history. I don't think it'd be too bad actually living in it."

"Nonsense, Mercy," a hand came to cover hers and she offered a smile to the man seated to her right. She turned her palm upwards so that the warmth between them was cocooned even as he tried to reassure her, "We'll find a way to get you back home."

The thought in itself was touching, and left her speechless enough that she didn't have the heart to tell them that the likelihood of that happening to was quite frankly, next to nil. Already she felt the pit known best under the name 'despair' growing in her stomach, and she managed a wry smile as she located it so closely aligned to her navel that the hurt was almost visceral.

Never mind all the creature comforts she had ever known, she had never been one to shy away from 'roughing' things. Her concerns turned more to her friends – her family; and the fact that her final goodbye to them had been a careless 'I expect calzone when I get back.'

Mercy di Salmileri lifted a hand to her lips, the fingers trembling even as her free hand curled around what had once been the device that had dragged her through time and space into the 1800's, where Napoleon still waged war with Britain and the quickest means of transportation was by sea.

It was ridiculous, really. The event of her arrival something out of science-fiction, and while she had nothing against the leaps and bounds that science itself took – the refraction of light so that an object might appear invisible, the breakthrough of bending time and space to compress or expand a second – she would have honestly preferred that it had been someone else who was displaced from time.

Bishop of X-Men she was not.

"Mercy,"

She looked up to meet the gaze of one Dr. Stephen Maturin, her lips pressing together as a nervous, choked laugh escaped. "I'm fine," she said, quickly brushing the moisture that had inconveniently formed in her eyes. "Drink?" She beamed a smile then towards the man leaning, somber against one wall. "To victory. Right, captain?"

But said captain of the HMS _Surprise_ shook his head, relieved himself of his place at the wall, and crossed towards where his first lieutenant and his oldest, closest friend had flanked the girl he had once regarded insubordinate and overly-willful.

"Brave girl," he said now, making it sound like an affectionate nickname. "We'll take care of you." He seemed to wince when he said the words, as if afraid he might sound insincere.

For all their earlier animosity, Jack Aubrey had come to grudgingly respect the girl he had initially thought mad with her stubborn insistence that she was from the twenty-first century. How could, after all, anyone be from a time that had not yet come to pass? She might have as well told him that the world was the size of a pea that rolled around the plate set for giraffes, elephants and other such creatures of the wild.

But he believed her, having seen first-hand the mechanism that had brought her to what he might have once considered the middle of nowhere out in the great big, blue ocean. Sadly though, Romelien – the cad who had created the machine and dragged Mercy along with him – was dead. Slain amongst the Frenchmen who had taken him aboard the now-seized vessel; and while Aubrey still could not wholly approve of Mercy's overall attitude and again, willfulness, he had to admit that his heart had softened towards her like it might a favored niece. As much as it could, at least, if said favored niece were as deadly unarmed as she was armed.

"I'll write to Sophie," he said at length, his mind having already processed a list of options for the girl. "You can stay with us for the meantime. And Tom," he paused, hazarding a brief look at the younger man seated at her side. "I'll not have you argue with me on this. You'll be captaining the _Acheron_ and Mercy will need some time to…" he offered her a feeble smile, "adjust."

Jack straightened then, smoothed the front of his shirt with one hand. "When all the necessary affairs have been settled, then you may request for shore leave to spend time together where you wish."

Never let it be said that he was unmindful of the subtle changes in the relationships of those under his watch. He'd known well enough of the attraction that had developed between Tom Pullings and Mercy, and in light of her imminent permanence in their little space within the presumed time continuity, he didn't see why they couldn't be given the opportunity to pursue the relationship further. Though really, he could hardly imagine how Tom would eventually come round to handling the girl. It was far more likely, after all, that Mercy would handle him.

But that was none of his business. At least, not yet.

- o -

They sailed a few more days; the _Acheron_ had been attached to the _Surprise _by a chain as she had taken some damage in the scuffle. It would be a few more before she could be sea-worthy, though the carpenters went about their business with much zeal.

It was late when Mercy came up on deck, nodding briefly to the men who passed her as they shuffled down below. Her eyes were turned to the stars even as her hands settled on the wooden rail.

"Hope you don't mind me saying so, it is still a wonder how carefree you are on a ship, Miss Mercy. Though I recall you mentioning to the good doctor that your father loved to sail."

Mercy smiled and turned around to the voice, the small of her back curving against the banister even she meekly accepted the teacup suddenly offered to her by Killick who merely nodded and grumbled for her to finish so that he could turn in for the night.

"I did, didn't I," she thanked the cook, bid him goodnight and turned her attention to the voice and the man who owned it, currently handling the ship's wheel. "And yes, he did. He loved to sail very much." She looked off to the side, idly noting how the deck cleared of people save for those staying up for the watch. "He never sailed at night though. He would always turn in when the sun began to set."

"You loved him very much."

"He was my father." She said it simply, and with much fondness. "Where will you be, after all this, Bonden?" She crossed her arms over her chest, a feeble attempt to ward away the cold. "Do you have family?"

"You've already met me cousin; he's family enough," he smiled, eyes still forward, hands steady. "As for your question: I imagine I'll be here, or at least close enough at hand when we hit port in case the cap'n needs me."

They settled into comfortable silence then, once in awhile turning their eyes the same direction to note the shifting clouds. "Storm?" She asked eventually, the frown between her brows reminding him how much she detested the rain in the open seas. Her first encounter with a storm hadn't been too pleasant, not that he would call any encounter with waves the height of five whales pleasant at all.

The coxswain offered a reassuring smile. "Maybe if it rains hard enough the captain won't see the need to have us scrub the decks." He said it lightly, meaning nothing of it except to tease her. Sure enough, when she tossed him a look, he chuckled, his laugh easy and carefree. "Was just teasin' ye, Miss Mercy. We might get the better of her yet."

"I'll head on down," she clapped him lightly on the shoulder, a gesture previously odd and now familiar to them both. "You have a good night, Bonden."

"And good evenin' to ye as well, miss."

It felt like only a few short minutes after she'd closed her eyes when shouts from above roused Mercy from sleep, prompting her to swear close enough to a growl. Her hand instinctively reached for the gun she no longer had and she groaned, tumbling out of her hammock in the dark, the lamp having gone out sometime after she'd nodded off.

She swore colorfully in hushed Italian, hands pushing her up from where she'd ended up facedown on the floor. It took all of several seconds for her to gather her wits, and since she'd taken to sleeping in her next-day clothes, she quickly jogged out onto the deck to a sight that she had not expected.

"You can hardly blame this on me—"

"Ha! I blame _everything_ that's gone wrong so far on you – dammit Ina! Are we or are we not—_oof_—in the right—"

"You owe me a thank you—_unh_—"

Alec? Mercy could only blink – once, twice – at what appeared to be her brother, her best friend and another girl who looked only vaguely familiar ducking, lunging, punching the men who had come to arms on the deck of the _Surprise_.

What in hell? She thought and instinctively cried out "Ami! Look out!" right before someone took a swing at the girl with a cannon sponge. The man went down as Ami employed a move from aikido, rendering him disarmed and well-winded and leaving her holding the sponge, a smirk spreading on her face as she twirled it like an _arnis_ stick.

"Oh good God," Mercy scrambled from where she stood to where Captain Howard of the Marines stood, gun cocked at the three intruders. "Don't shoot them!" She felt her hand clasp the mid-section of his rifle even as the other curled around his shoulder. Her heartbeat was thudding loud in her ears. The shock of seeing the family she'd resigned herself in the last few days she would likely not see again left her unable to coherently relay a fully-formed sentence.

"Stephen!" She cried out instead, once Maturin came into view. "Stop them!" But the doctor only looked on mutely, once more drawing her eyes to where the still-bickering couple fought to protect the third of their party who crouched between them.

"What the devil is going on here?!"

Thank God, she thought, turning to Aubrey just as a female cry of frustration and pain pierced her ears. She turned, wide-eyed, just in time to see Alec take a swing to the jaw which for a moment, appeared to stun him; but only until he slowly turned back, back straightening so that he towered over whoever had decked him.

She winced visibly when the man who had hit her brother staggered back to his fellows. That would be a nasty black eye in the morning.

"Cease and desist! All of you! I demand an explanation for this."

All eyes turned to Aubrey then, voices silenced by his authority so only the three in the middle could be heard whispering to each other. Alec was now helping Ami to her feet, while the other girl ducked underneath Ami's arm to support her.

"I hate you," Mercy saw Ami mutter with much affection before finally leaning her weight against the much taller man. At this, she found herself suddenly running over to them, surprising all three though she had cried out loud enough to make her presence known.

- o -

"Oh, well yes, that's his excuse for landing us in a nest of velociraptors."

"You said to turn the dial right, so I turned it right!"

"Yes, and I also recall telling you to make sure that the numbers on the screen reflected the correct date and time—"

"Do they always argue like this?"

Mercy pressed the tip of her tongue to the inside of her cheek and nodded in response to Aubrey's whispered query. They were all gathered inside the captain's cabin. "Don't think anything of it, they don't." She wanted to chuckle a little, especially at the expression of utter confusion that seemed commonplace amongst the men in the room, after all, Ami was terribly petite - shorter than even Mercy herself - whereas Alec fair towered over the men thanks to a the few inches he had on Aubrey.

"Of course," drawled the girl now, rolling her eyes as she pressed a makeshift icepack against her jaw. "Not that I'd anything else from the man who proposed that I uproot myself from my home and country all because he dubs 'the air cleaner in Sheffield'."

"I apologized for that already. Bloody hell, Ami, you're not being hysterical – you're being damn historical. Mercy, talk to her!"

The laughter came then, loud and relieved and thoroughly, thoroughly amused. "She's your fiancée, Alec, I can hardly—"

"Ex-," Ami cut in, looking very much like a displeased cat, "_ex_-fiancée." The small girl crossed her arms in front of her chest and slowly expelled a breath.

"Ami," Mercy threw her friend a still-amused look, "you say that every time he pisses you off."

"This time we can call it permanent." The girl slouched deeper into her chair and lifted her unadorned left hand for all to see.

At that, Mercy narrowed her eyes and turned a rather pointed look at her brother. "Where is Nana's ring?" Ami snorted and puffed up her cheeks, wincing softly at the sting. Alec simply threw the girl a glare. "Alec…" Mercy ventured again, fingers twitching. "Where is—"

"Quite possibly in the middle of the Jurassic period, I imagine."

"It was the Cretaceous, Ami, and no, it's not there." To Mercy, he smiled sheepishly. "It's safe."

But there was something about the look in his eye that had her tilting her head to one side. "Alec…"

"It's in his stomach, Merce. Your idiot of a brother swallowed it."

Suffice to say, the silence was enough to prompt ears to fall down begging for noise other than the soft chirping of crickets that one of the midshipmen had caught in a jar to show to the good doctor. And naturally, as if to add further insult to present injury, one of the officers commented rather blandly: "Oh dear. Do you suppose there is any way to retrieve it?"


End file.
